


She Makes Me

by TheNightComesDown



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, Musicians, Oral Sex, Queen AU, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-07 22:16:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17969051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightComesDown/pseuds/TheNightComesDown
Summary: Things are complicated: you're with Roger, but you've started to catch feelings for Brian.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow I don't usually write dedicated smut, I tend to like a nice storyline, but I was given a fic prompt, "Just trust me," and went with it. So here ya go, don't read if you're under 18.

“It’s fine, love, no one else will be here for hours,” Roger murmured, pressing warm, wet kisses against your throat as he spoke. “Just trust me.” Against your better judgement, the studio door was wide open, meaning that anyone could walk in at any moment. Roger liked it this way, liked the idea of being caught. You couldn’t help but worry, until his hands, which had until very recently been exploring the skin beneath your blouse, found their way into your knickers.

“Fuck, Roger,” you groaned softly, tilting your head back against the wall. “Right there, babe.” You felt him smile against your skin, amused by the sounds he could bring out of you when he put the effort in. His fingers, slippery with your arousal, worked their way into you slowly. 

“Tell me how much you want it, Y/N,” he commanded, his breath hot in your ear. “Tell me you need it.” A guttural cry broke from your throat, giving him all the response he needed to continue on. 

This wasn’t the first time he’d insisted on meeting at the studio; with the long hours the boys had been pulling over the past two months, he didn’t have a lot of extra time. His lack of free time, however, didn’t lessen his interest in or need for sex. If anything, it made him greedier for any time he could get with you. Your flat was within walking distance of the studio, so it wasn’t really that much more work for you to meet him here. As his thumb circled your throbbing core, you tried to keep the volume down. It was before seven o’clock and no one else would be in until 8, but today you had a strange feeling that your luck was running short. You pressed a hand to your mouth to silence your moans, but Roger grabbed your wrist and held it against the wall when he realized what you were doing. 

“I want to hear you scream,” he insisted, “so keep your hands by your sides.” You’d almost managed to get your breathing under control when Roger changed the game. He pulled his fingers out of you, leaning in for one last kiss before he locked eyes with you and knelt down at your feet. 

“Not here,” you begged, taking his face between your hands. “Please, Rog, if someone comes in—” 

“If someone comes in, then I guess they’re going to get a show,” he smirked, tapping the inside of your ankle with his knuckles. You widened your stance and braced yourself against the wall as Roger slid your soaking knickers down your legs. With a fiendish grin, he slid his index and middle fingers into his mouth, moaning as he tasted your wetness. You shifted your weight from one foot to the next, allowing the scrape of lace around your ankles to fall to the floor. 

“Just the way I remember it,” he said, licking his lips. “Ready?” You nodded, clenching your teeth as his hands pushed your skirt up. Not one to tease, he went straight to business. For a moment, you thought your knees might buckle, but Roger pressed his hands into your thighs to keep you standing. The force of his tongue against you was too much. 

“Roger, you’ve got to stop,” you panted. “Fuck, please.” Ignoring his earlier request, you laced your fingers into his hair, pulling gently in an attempt to pull him back. His tongue was working wonders, but you thought you’d heard a sound down the hall. Roger raked his nails down the back of your thighs, sending tingles up your spine like you hadn’t felt in ages. Maybe it was just in my head, you thought. Your breath was coming in ragged gasps now, and you were doing everything in your power to keep your hips from bucking forward against Roger’s face. He hated to hurry things along, so you tried to be patient as you watched him lap at you hungrily. 

Your gaze snapped up to the studio door as a flash of white entered your vision. Brian stood at the door, his mouth hanging open as he met your eyes. Somehow, he kept hold of the water glass he held in his hand. He had failed to tame his mane that morning, and as such, his dark curls stood out in a wild mass. You breathed in sharply to warn Roger, but Brian did something unexpected: he held his index finger to his lips in a silent _shush_. Setting his glass of water on the carpeted floor, he leaned against the doorframe, watching the two of you curiously. 

Satisfied that you wouldn’t collapse, Roger removed one hand from where it clutched your thigh and went for the zipper of his trousers. You wouldn’t be allowed to touch him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to get something out of this. As he stroked himself, he began to moan against your clit. The vibrations from his mouth nearly sent you over the edge, but you held yourself in check – Roger was just getting started, and wouldn’t be pleased if you went to pieces on him now. 

As you watched Brian watching you, you noticed that his own breathing was changing. Instead of being horrified, as you’d expected, he was aroused; a blush crept up his neck and into his face, and the outline of his erection became quickly apparent through his trousers. Your eyes flickered down to his crotch, and as if you’d spoken aloud and instructed him, he began to rub at himself through the fabric of his jeans. 

“Roger,” your voice cracked, “I’m close.” In response, Roger picked up his own pace, increasing the intensity of his mouth against you. He began to thrust into himself against his hand, which was the permission you needed to do the same. Your eyes stayed on Brian as your orgasm built within you, releasing as you let out one final cry of pleasure. Roger felt his own release a moment later, leaving the room quiet except for his shuddering breaths. Pulling his face back, he kissed the inside of each of your thighs before looking up at you. Your face was flushed with embarrassed ecstasy, but Roger seemed to take no notice of this; he was still seeing stars. 

“God, I missed you,” he groaned, wrapping his arms around your thighs. You ran a hand through his long, blonde hair in praise of a job well done. He rested his cheek against the fabric of your skirt, keeping his eyes closed as his breathing returned to normal. You glanced up toward the door, but Brian had disappeared without a sound. After another minute, Roger stood up and kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. Your hands grasped his face and pulled him away, allowing you to get a good look at him. His forehead was beaded with sweat, and his cheeks were flushed pink. “You’re incredible,” you smiled, “really, Rog, you are.” He stepped back, giving you space to step away from the wall. You turned around to search for your knickers, and found that Roger had used them to avoid stain-removal charges from the studio. 

“Roger, those were my favourite,” you pouted. “I can’t take them home in this state.” 

“Just chuck ‘em in the bin, love,” he chuckled, kissing your cheek. “I bought some new ones I know you’ll like, they’re in the pocket of my coat.” He tilted his head towards the studio door, and you followed him after discarding the scrap of fabric into the rubbish bin (strategically covered by scraps of paper, of course). 

As promised, Roger presented you with an adorable pair of black lace knickers, complete with a tiny pink bow on the front. You held them up in front of his face teasingly, as if to say, _you’ll be seeing these again_. 

The door to the toilet opened across the room, and Brian stepped out. His eyes stopped on the bit of lace in your hand, which you quickly balled up in your hand. He cleared his throat and bobbed his head in greeting. 

“Morning, Brian,” Roger said, raising his eyebrows. Brian flashed him a quick smile, avoiding your eyes as he bent down and retrieved the cup of water he’d left by the studio door. “Enjoy the show?” he called after his curly-haired friend. 

Brian choked on his drink, spluttering and coughing as he tried to clear his lungs of fluid. Roger howled with laughter, following Brian into the studio. He patted the man on the back, whispering something you couldn’t hear to him before returning to your side. 

“You knew he was here the whole time?” you asked, incredulous. 

“'Course I did,” Roger shrugged shamelessly, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I told him to meet me here at 7 to go over the guitar riff I wrote for a new song.” 

“Roger!” you gasped, smacking his arm. “How could you do that to him? Look at the poor boy, he’s mortified.” You glanced over Roger’s shoulder to Brian, who had slung his guitar strap over his shoulder and was now lounging against a stool, tinkering with the Red Special’s tuning keys. 

“Oh, I think if you asked him, he’d have something quite different to say,” Roger told you. As you met Brian’s hazel eyes, he licked away a spot of blood from where he’d bitten his lip before running to the toilet. That look said it all: he’d finished up his business behind closed doors.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger acknowledges the elephant in the room, and you try to work through your feelings about Brian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not particularly graphic this time, but as always, 18+ readers only, please.

“Did you see the way he was watching you the entire day?” Roger teased over dinner. “The boy could hardly pay attention to a thing Freddie told him, he’s so enamoured by you.” You slapped Roger’s arm playfully as you sipped at your wine.

“Can you blame him?” you laughed, shaking your head. “He walked in on us after _you_ invited him to the studio under false pretences. My mouth’d be hanging open all day, too.” Roger was scarfing down a plate of pasta, not having had much to eat all day – Freddie insisted that they all stay until they had perfected the song they were working on. 

“You _are_ going to do something about him, though, aren’t you?” Roger asked. “I know how he makes you feel.” You rolled your eyes and popped a forkful of salad into your mouth. 

“So you’re telling me you’d be okay if I were to mess around with Brian?” 

“You’ve never had a problem with me seeing other girls,” he reminded you. Below the table, his ankle brushed against yours. 

“Well, this is a bit different,” you pointed out. “I don’t know any of the girls you’ve fucked. Brian is your best friend.” He nodded thoughtfully, considering this as he squeezed a lime wedge into his drink. 

The waitress came by with a basket of bread and another small bowl of garlic butter, and not once did she look in your direction. Her attention was entirely focused on Roger, who, despite being in a somewhat formal restaurant, had most of his chest exposed. You smirked at him as the girl attempted to refill your wine glass, spilling on the table as she poured. 

“Thanks, love,” you said, patting her wrist gently. “I think I’ve had enough for one night.” She stammered an apology for spilling and hurried away from the table. 

“Do you think I’ll be jealous or something?” Roger asked curiously, reaching across the table to wipe your glass down with his napkin. 

“No, I think Brian will be,” you admitted. “I’ve known him long enough to see that he’s not like you when it comes to women.” He took your hand in his and leaned forward, kissing each knuckle before releasing you. 

“You might be right about that,” he shrugged. “Only way to know is if you ask.” Roger grinned at you, gesturing across the room with his eyes before he glanced over at the waitress and winked. 

“You’re such a whore sometimes,” you chided, crunching on your last crouton. “If you sleep with the entire wait staff, we’ll have to find a different restaurant, and this is the only one that’s close to home and quiet.” Roger sighed, tilting his head back in mock annoyance. 

“Fine, just this one, and I promise no more after that,” he huffed. 

“If you’re bringing her with us to the bar, then I’m taking Brian home,” you said decidedly. “But we’d best be going, or we’ll miss out on all the fun.” 

“Say no more, sweet lady,” he announced dramatically, and waved at the waitress to request the bill. She brought it by a minute later, doing her best to seem coy instead of fidgety and nervous. 

“What time are you off work tonight, my dear?” Roger inquired, looking up at her from under his ridiculously long eyelashes. 

“Right at 8,” she replied, toying with the gold chain at her throat as Roger fished around in his pocket in search of his wallet. 

“And what time is it now, darling?” You glanced down at the watch Roger had gifted to you earlier that year, and saw that it was 7:50. 

“I think we can wait 10 minutes,” you smiled, raising an eyebrow at Roger. “Can’t we, Rog?” 

* * * * * 

The music at the bar was incredibly loud, just the way you liked it. John and Brian had secured a table, where they were waiting when you and Roger arrived, the pretty little brunette he had acquired at dinner hanging off his arm. 

“Who’s she?” Brian asked, helping you out of your coat. John slid a vodka tonic across the table to you, having ordered one when he saw you and Roger walk in. 

“Waitress,” you explained simply, settling into the high bar stool he had pulled out for you. “You know how Roger likes ditzy girls.” John stood up from the table, leaving you and Brian alone. 

“You aren’t ditzy,” Brian countered, leaning his chin against his hand. 

“That’s different,” you shrugged. “Other girls come and go.” Brian looked as if he wanted to say something, but abruptly rose from his seat to greet John’s wife, who had arrived moments earlier. 

“Where are Fred and Roger?” Veronica asked, wrapping you in a hug. You had become quite fond of her in the two years you’d known her, and were glad that she had decided to come tonight. 

“Fred’s popped off to the toilets,” Brian said loudly, “enjoying the company of some fellow he’s met on the dance floor, no doubt.” 

“And Rog is somewhere on the dance floor, grinding on some blue-eyed floozy he picked up at dinner tonight,” you answered. Brian laid a hand on your thigh, smirking at your reference to his song. Veronica sighed and gave you a sympathetic look. 

“This bloody baby is pressing down on my bladder,” she complained, patting at her round belly, “would you mind showing my to the toilet?” 

“Say hi to Fred if you see him!” John called after you, to Brian’s great amusement. You clutched Veronica’s hand as you led her to the back of the bar, passing by Roger and his date as you walked. Once you’d made it through the door into the relative quiet of the bathroom, Veronica pulled you over to the sinks. 

“Aren’t you tired of him sleeping around?” she demanded, hurt on your behalf. “I can’t even imagine how hard this is for you.” 

“I don’t mind,” you insisted, despite the feeling in the back of your mind that reminded you that this was a lie. “It’s always been this way for us, so it’s nothing new.” Veronica rolled her eyes, knowing better than to believe you. 

“Y/N, I love you dearly, but you are so daft sometimes,” she groaned. 

“About what?” you exclaimed. “I knew what I was getting into.” 

“No, about Brian, silly,” she scolded. “You must’ve noticed that he’s hopelessly in love with you.” You waved dismissively, refusing to entertain her comment. 

“Now you’re the silly one, Vee,” you shook your head. “Brian’s not in love with me. He saw what he saw, and that’s just a natural reaction to that sort of thing.” Veronica frowned, pressing her lips together in confusion. 

“I think I’m missing something here,” she expressed. You cursed yourself internally for saying anything; of course she wouldn’t have heard about the incident; Brian would have felt too awkward to mention it to Freddie or John, and Roger hadn’t said anything because he would have been scolded for pulling such a stunt. 

“It’s not a big deal,” you hesitated, “but Brian kind of…walked in on Roger and I this morning.” Veronica’s eyes went wide with disbelief. 

“Like at Roger’s house?” she cried. “What the hell was he doing walking in when—” 

“No, no,” you stopped her, “at the studio this morning. Roger asked me to meet him there for 6:30, and apparently he told Brian to be there at 7:00.” As you explained, you realized how bad this sounded. 

“You must be joking,” Veronica gasped. When you didn’t answer her, she laid her head against the cool granite countertop between two sinks. “Fuck, Y/N.” 

“He saw…well, he saw a lot,” you cringed. “And he kind of…looked like he was into it.” Your friend put her hands on her hips and glared at you. 

“Of course he was _into it_ , you ninny,” she huffed in disbelief. “Brian’s enamoured with you. I can’t believe Roger would do such a thing.” She went into one of the toilet stalls and locked the door. Having used the toilet at the restaurant, you lifted yourself up onto the countertop, swinging your legs back and forth while you waited. 

“He asked me at dinner tonight if I’m going to make a move on Brian,” you announced at the stall door. “Said he wouldn’t be jealous or weird about it, because I haven’t been weird about him seeing other girls.” 

“That’s entirely different,” Veronica nearly shouted. “They’re best friends, for goodness’ sake.” 

“That’s what I said!” you agreed. “But I told Rog that if he brought that slag along with him tonight that I was going to go home with Brian, and he didn’t seem to care.” The toilet flushed; Veronica waddled out from the stall and over to the sink to wash her hands. 

“And how do you feel about Brian?” she inquired. “Not to gossip, but John’s mentioned that you two have some pretty serious chemistry.” 

“John is clearly imagining things,” you informed her. “Brian’s sweet and cute, and I think he’s a riot, but I don’t – hey, don’t look at me like that,” you frowned, “I don’t feel that way about him.” 

“Okay, okay,” she said defensively, “what do I know? Just be careful, Y/N. If you’re going to get involved with Brian like that, you’ll need to be on the same page. He’s not Roger,” she stressed, “and he’s sensitive about these sorts of things.” 

“I know, I know,” you sighed, pulling the bathroom door open for her. “I promise not to be stupid.” 

By the time you returned to the table, you’d entirely forgot your promise to Veronica; Brian pulled you onto the dance floor before you had an opportunity to sit down. 

What began innocently enough quickly became something else. Brian was a horrific dancer, moving like a stork as he attempted to enjoy the music. As a couple bumped up against you, Brian held out his arms to keep you from falling. You came to a stop against his chest, your hands grasping at his shirt for balance. When you looked up to apologize, Brian’s eyes had shifted from their usual warm hazel to an intense, striking dark gold. 

“Brian, is everything alright?” you tried to say, but were stopped as his lips crashed against yours. Tense at first with the shock of the situation, you quickly warmed up to the feeling of his hands on you, his mouth pressed to your own. The rest of the room melted away for a minute as he held you tightly. Although the sound system in the bar was overpowering, you could still feel the gentle vibrations of the moans Brian made against your lips. His hands began to wander over your skirt, so you stopped him; this wasn’t the place for this to happen. Pulling away from him, you opened your eyes and held him at arm’s length. 

“Let’s get out of here,” you yelled above the music, surprising yourself at the forwardness of your words. Brian, however, didn’t need to be asked twice. He grabbed your hand and pulled you back to the table, where he told John that you weren’t feeling well and that he would take you back to your flat. Veronica eyed you with concern, but knew that nothing she could say or do would change the situation. 

Roger watched from afar as you and Brian left the building, smiling with satisfaction at the seeds he had planted; all it had taken was a gentle suggestion, and the feigning of his indifference. He’d been given an ultimatum; choose to see you exclusively, or let you down easy. This seemed like the option that hurt the least for both of you. 

“Take care of her, Bri,” he said softly, turning his attention back to his date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, looking forward to continuing to develop this story.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After leaving the pub with Brian, you wonder if you've done the right thing.

Humidity from the hot shower water filled the bathroom, fogging up the mirror you were attempting to use to curl your hair. With a dry washcloth, you rubbed the condensation from the glass, knowing that you’d have to repeat the process again for every minute Brian remained in the shower.

“Bri, are you quite finished?” you asked, pulling the curtain open slightly. To your amusement, Brian was bent forward, attempting to wash all the suds from his thick curls. 

“What kind of shampoo is this?” he demanded, scrubbing forcefully at his scalp. “I’ve never had to work this hard to wash soap out of my hair.” After another minute of vigorous rinsing, he flipped his hair back over his head. Brian’s annoyance faded away as soon as he saw your face; stepping towards you, he placed a very wet kiss on your lips, transferring water droplets from his own face to your own. 

“Brian!” you scolded, trying not to giggle. You hadn’t yet put on any makeup, which was a blessing. Brian reached out and took your face in his hands, drawing you towards him. 

“What time do you have to be at work?” he asked between kisses. At this point, you were leaning over the bathtub, but were far enough from the showerhead to remain mostly dry. 

“Don’t have to be there until 9,” you replied, trailing your fingers down his bare chest. Your fingernails left thin red lines as they grazed his skin, a perfect match for the marks you’d left on his back the night before. 

“Are you dead set on wearing that outfit?” he asked, smiling against your mouth. 

“Why?” you inquired, pulling away to regard him suspiciously. With a mischievous grin, Brian pressed his entire body against you, wetting your blouse and trousers in an instant. 

“Brian Harold May,” you shrieked, “you are so dead.” Unfortunately for you, the only way to get at him was to climb into the shower. Since you were already wet, you pulled your socks off quickly and clambered over the short wall of the tub. Brian threw his arms around you the second your feet were planted on the tub floor, pulling you under the stream of water. 

“This is what happens when you don’t wait for me,” he informed you, slipping his hands beneath your wet blouse. “I don’t like to shower alone when I have a beautiful woman who could join me.” Water poured over your face as your lips met Brian’s, but you didn’t mind. Any annoyance you had previously felt was washed away with the steaming water. 

Brian was at an advantage, already being unclothed. Wet denim was even harder to remove than dry denim, so your trousers proved a real challenge, requiring the efforts of both you and Brian to get them off. Having tossed your blouse and jeans onto the bathroom floor, Brian pressed you against the tiled shower wall. The stone was cold against your back, a stark contrast to the almost-burning shower water. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Brian murmured, sucking gently at your throat as he unclipped your bra. “Are you sure you need to go to work today?” You almost had a mind to say ‘no’ when he tore your knickers right off. 

“Roger will buy you new ones,” he smirked, kissing his way down your body. 

“Fuck him,” you breathed, brushing Brian’s hair out of his face. “All I want is you.” 

* * * * * 

**LATER THAT DAY**

While typing up a set of documents at your desk, the phone rang. You didn’t receive many calls, so you knew before picking up that it would be Roger. 

“So, darling, how’d it go?” he inquired eagerly. 

“Nice to talk to you too, Rog,” you replied sarcastically. “Generally, conversations begin with small pleasantries, and don’t get into the hot stuff until later.” 

“So it _was_ hot, then?” he said with a laugh. “I knew he’d be a good lay.” 

“No comment.” 

“Come on, Y/N.” he whined, “I always kiss and tell. Don’t leave me hanging.” You lowered your voice, glancing around to ensure your boss wasn’t loitering by the copier again. Hearing non-work related talk encouraged him to share way too much about his own personal life with his staff, and you really weren’t interested in that today. 

“Roger,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, “what happened between Brian and I isn’t your business, alright?” You tried to be gentle with him, but by the long pause that followed, you could tell he was hurt. 

“You’re really not going to tell me anything?” he asked quietly. After spending two years as good friends and occasional lovers, Roger was surprised by this development; you told each other everything. 

“It’s not because I don’t…” you started, stopping halfway. Why was it you didn’t want to tell him? You had always rather enjoyed Roger when he got jealous. “It’s Brian. He’s your best friend, and I just don’t think it’s a good idea to talk about it,” you said finally. 

“I hate to say this, but I can respect that,” Roger mumbled, still clearly miffed that you weren’t willing to spill. “He wouldn’t say anything either, even when Freddie offered to go out to that weird vegetarian place he likes for lunch if he’d spill the beans.” You had assumed Brian wasn’t the kind of man to share about his bedroom activities, but still felt relieved to hear that he hadn’t discussed it with his bandmates – Roger especially. 

“Well that’s that, then,” you announced decidedly. “I should get back to work, love, I have a mile-high stack of documents that need to be transcribed by the time I leave tonight.” Glancing at the empty ‘to-do’ bin on your desk, you felt bad for lying. However, you’d made plans to meet up with Brian when he finished in the studio tonight, and for some reason, neither of you wanted Roger to know. 

“I know you’ll zip right through it all,” Roger encouraged. As had become his habit, he ended the call with a quick, “Love you, Y/N.” 

“You too, Rog,” you replied, hanging up. As you returned to your typing, you noticed that your co-worker Eileen had stopped proofreading the document in her hand, and was staring at you. 

“You’re not _still_ seeing him, are you?” she said, incredulous. 

“What? No,” you shook your head. “It’s not…okay, it’s not like that.” She leaned back in her chair, sighing heavily. 

“Y/N, you’re brilliant,” she confided, “but being with Roger is a terrible choice. A guy like him will never give up shagging other girls, not for you or anyone else.” Across the room, your boss’s office door creaked open; you quickly went back to your typing, and Eileen flipped to the next page of her document, pretending to read it. 

“That’s not why he was calling,” you hissed quietly, shooting her a perturbed glance. “I went home with Brian last night, and he wanted to know how it went.” Eileen’s mouth dropped open, but she waited for the door of the men’s room to swing shut before looking at you over the frames of her glasses. 

“You must be joking,” she gasped. “Brian? As in Roger’s guitar-playing, lanky, poodle-haired best mate, Brian?” You nodded sheepishly, and Eileen buried her face in her papers. “Brilliant. Just fucking ace, Y/N.” You threw your hands up in exasperation. 

“It just happened, Eileen,” you explained. “One moment we were dancing at the pub, and next thing I knew…” 

“Please tell me Roger doesn’t know,” she moaned. 

“I kind of…told him that if he invited the waitress to the bar, I’d be taking Brian home,” you grimaced, realizing that this was maybe a fact you should have kept to yourself. Eileen’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. 

“I cannot even believe I’m hearing this,” Eileen murmured, standing up from her desk. "I’m going to put the kettle on before my head explodes. Fancy a cuppa?” 

“S’long as you don’t pour it on my head,” you told her, putting your face in your hands. “I know it’s bad, but…” 

“But what?” she questioned, placing her hands on her hips. 

“But he was fucking incredible,” you groaned. “Christ, Eileen, the things that man can do with his fingers—” 

“La la la la la,” your co-worker sang loudly, shoving her fingers into her ears. “I’m not hearing this!” She hurried away to the break room, leaving you to remember the previous night in solitude. 

* * * * * 

**THE PREVIOUS NIGHT**

Neither of you had really had much to drink, which almost made things worse. If you’d been pissed, it would be easier to justify. You’d barely had two sips of the vodka tonic John had ordered for you before Veronica had pulled you away, and Brian had been nursing a single beer the entire night prior to your arrival. He didn’t need liquor to encourage him; the memory of seeing you pressed against the studio wall earlier that morning was enough. 

“Are you sure about this?” Brian asked, peppering sweet kisses along your jaw. His hands were eager but hesitant against your skin, as if he had forgotten your enthusiastic invitation to leave the pub together. You had barely made it into the door of your flat before tugging his shirt over his head. 

“Positive,” you assured him, yanking his belt open. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, Bri.” 

“Christ, Y/N,” he choked, clenching his eyes shut as you grasped him through his briefs. Your thumb traced the head of his cock, feeling his wet excitement through the fabric. “Wait, stop,” Brian growled, placing his hand over yours to halt your movements. 

“What?” you asked, furrowing your brows in concern. “Is this too fast for you? We can just kiss on the sofa for a bit, if you want to slow down.” He let out a low laugh, pressing a warm kiss against your lips in response. 

“No, it’s not that,” he promised. “I…I’ve wanted this for so long.” In the dim lighting, his eyes were dark and moody as you looked up into them. 

“What is it, then?” you wondered, placing your unoccupied hand against his bare chest. He was already slightly damp with perspiration, salty beneath your tongue as you sucked at the skin over his collarbone. 

“I don’t – I can’t – do this, if you’re just doing it because you know it’ll make Roger angry,” he explained. Your grip tightened on him, causing Brian to draw in a sharp, ragged breath. 

“That’s not what this is about,” you murmured, nuzzling your face against his throat. “You saw what you did to me this morning.” Brian shifted his hips towards you as you began to stroke him, but you gently pushed back. 

“Slow down, there, cowboy,” you giggled, “we’re the only ones here, and we’ve got all night.” Teasing him with your hand, you guided him down the hall and into your bedroom. The bed was made (much to your relief), as you’d slept alone the night before. Roger hadn’t been by in a few weeks, as he’d had a short fling with a girl he’d met at a party. 

“Have you got condoms?” Brian asked, lifting you onto the bed. You crawled backwards, spreading your knees so he had space for his own legs. 

“Always,” you replied, gesturing towards the nightstand with a nod of your head. “Why, do you think we’ll be needing them?” Your eyes twinkled mischievously as he lowered himself down onto his elbows, hovering inches above you. 

“Funny little bird, aren’t you?” he chuckled, leaning down to kiss you. 

“Call me Tweety,” you replied, arranging his wild hair in a dark curtain around your face. Brian’s long eyelashes brushed against your skin, tickling slightly. 

“I think you have too many clothes on, love,” Brian noted, tugging gently on your skirt.” What do you say we get a bit more comfortable?” 

* * * * * 

**THE NEXT EVENING**

When you arrived at the address Brian had given you, you were slightly confused. The windows were filled with rows of books, and the sign above the open door advertised that it was indeed a bookshop. Upon further investigation, Brian was seated at a small table just inside the door, poring over a thick, academic-looking volume. As you approached his table, he glanced up; a smile spread across his face, and he stood up to greet you. 

“Don’t you look lovely tonight?” he complimented, giving you a quick kiss. 

“I thought you said we were getting supper?” you asked curiously, settling into the chair he pulled out for you. 

“We are,” he grinned, “just not in the traditional sense of the word. Give me one minute.” He stood up and hurried to the back of the store, where he chatted with the middle-aged woman at the cash register. While you waited for him, you glanced around the shop, and investigated the book Brian had been reading. 

“Stellar dynamics?” you read aloud, touching the cover curiously. “I can’t even begin to imagine what that’s all about.” Having known Brian for as long as you’d known Roger, you knew that he was brilliant, and that his academic interests had continued even though his music career with Queen had taken off. 

“It’s for a course I’m taking,” Brian explained, sidling up beside you. He set a bowl of rice on the edge of the table, ignoring your questioning look. Gently brushing your hair from your face, he bent down and kissed you, humming with satisfaction as you looped a finger through a gap in his button-up and pulled him closer. 

“Aren’t you two sweet,” a woman’s voice exclaimed from across the room. Brian glanced up, his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. 

“Sorry, Mrs. Patel,” he smiled, planting one last kiss on your cheek before returning to his seat. “Y/N, this is Mrs. Patel. She and her husband are friends of Freddie’s mum and dad, and have owned the shop here for well over a decade.” The grey-haired woman set a pot of chickpea curry on the table, and beside it a plate of homemade chapati. 

“There are a few plates below the chapati,” she instructed, “and I’ll be back in a moment with spoons and forks.” Her emerald-green sari swished behind her as she returned to the kitchen, which you realized was on the other side of the door beside the cash register. 

“I know how much you love Mrs. Bulsara’s cooking,” Brian said, setting a small plate in front of you, “and I wanted you to see where I spend my time outside the studio.” He pointed to an armchair on the other side of the shop, illuminated by a small overhead lamp. “I’ve been doing a lot of writing in that chair, and Mrs. Patel has been kind enough to keep me from starving on the days I forget to pack myself snacks.” He sat down across from you and slipped his hand beneath your own. 

“I’ve maybe mentioned you once or twice,” he admitted, biting his lip timidly, “so when I asked Mrs. Patel if I could bring you by for dinner tonight, she was more than happy to oblige.” The gesture was incredibly sweet, and it was clear to you how excited Brian was to have brought you here. 

“This is amazing,” you enthused, giving his hand a firm squeeze. “I’ve never been taken on a date to a bookshop before, you know.” Brian’s earthy, amber eyes lit up at your comment. 

“So this is a date, then?” he quirked an eyebrow, attempting to control his smile. 

“It sure seems that way, doesn’t it?” you replied, looking up to see Mrs. Patel’s return to the table. She set a fork and spoon in front of each of you, as well as a cloth napkin. 

“Oh, I’ve forgotten about drinks!” she sighed, turning away once more. 

“Mrs. Patel, have a seat,” Brian insisted. “I know where Mr. Patel keeps the beer. _I’ll_ grab it.” He stood up and gestured for the woman to take his seat, lending his arm for support as she lowered herself into the chair. 

“I’ve never seen such legs on a boy,” she shook her head, watching him stride away. “Walks like a crane wading through water.” You giggled, imagining a bird with hair like Brian’s. 

“Has he been coming here for a while?” you wondered, observing the woman across from you. She looked to be about the same age as Freddie’s mother, who you’d met many times at the dinners she insisted on holding for Freddie’s bandmates and their partners. Roger had brought you a few times, knowing that you loved Indian food, and didn’t often have a chance to eat it. 

“Mrs. Bulsara recommended Brian and his shy little friend when Mr. Patel was looking to redo some of our lighting,” she explained. “After that, Brian just kept coming back. He’s a sweet boy, very thoughtful and kind.” You nodded, knowing that her words were true. 

“Thank you so much for having us here tonight, Mrs. Patel,” you said gratefully. “And on such short notice.” She frowned at your comment, but after a moment of thought seemed to have remembered something. 

“He asked me two weeks ago,” she confided, dipping a finger into the curry to taste it one last time before it was served. “Said he’d let me know if he changed his mind, but that he wanted to bring a friend by.” You opened your mouth to ask how that was possible, just as Brian returned with two opened bottles of Kingfisher. 

“I wrote a cheque out to Mr. Patel so he’ll import some more of this,” Brian said, directing his comment to the hostess. “Left it on the counter.” Mrs. Patel pinched his cheek affectionately, as if he were her own child. 

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone, now,” Mrs. Patel promised, pulling herself out of Brian’s wooden chair. “Let me know if you need anything.” She patted your shoulder knowingly, and retreated through the kitchen door. Brian offered the plate of chapati to you, taking a piece for himself once you’d selected yours. 

“All right?” Brian asked after a minute, noticing the subtle look of confusion on your face. 

“Just fine,” you nodded, setting aside your question. Hot, delicious-smelling food was in front of you now, and that was what mattered. 

“Mrs. Patel said you arranged this two weeks ago,” you mentioned a few minutes later, scooping a second helping of rice onto your plate. “Were you planning on bringing someone else?” Brian stared blankly at you. What other woman could he be even remotely interested in? 

“I just…well, um…” he trailed off sheepishly, trying to decide how to explain the situation. “I was planning on asking you out a week ago, but didn’t really get around to it because I, um…chickened out.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, seemingly embarrassed to admit his anxiety. 

“Roger knew you were going to do it, didn’t he?” you realized, setting the serving spoon back into the curry pot with a metallic clang. “That’s why he told you to meet him at the studio yesterday morning. He thought he could rile you up enough to make a move.” 

“That bastard,” Brian huffed, sitting back in his chair. 

“It’s certainly a roundabout way to set up your mate,” you agreed, remembering Roger’s sly grin when he told you he’d essentially invited Brian to walk in on you. “I don’t think he did it to make you jealous, though.” 

“Why else would he have done it?” Brian questioned, rolling his eyes. “We both know he can be a real wanker sometimes.” 

“I think he was trying to end things with me,” you said slowly, piecing it all together. The reality hit you harder than you’d expected. After two years of frustrating, confusing, yet somehow fulfilling friendship, Roger was finally calling it off. “Did you ask him t—” 

“No, of course not,” Brian promised, placing a warm, comforting hand onto your arm. “Y/N, I would never ask that of him, or of you.” You wiped away the tears pooling in your eyes, trying to remain calm and collected. 

“So what, you’d be fine sharing with Roger forever?” you scoffed, taking a long sip from your beer. “I hardly believe that.” 

“Not forever, no,” Brian admitted, staring at his lap uncertainly. “But I figured that if it was meant to be, you’d get to know me better, and decide you wanted to be with me more than Rog.” 

“Oh.” You chewed at your lip thoughtfully, considering Brian’s words. He was telling the truth, you decided, and hadn’t asked Roger to call things off. 

“Bri, I really like you,” you sniffed, dabbing at your nose with your napkin, “but I’ve been with Roger on and off for two years. That’s not something I can just walk away from in a day.” Brian nodded; it was a fair statement. 

“I understand,” he sighed, folding his hands on the table before him. “Does that mean you don’t want to see me again?” His eyes flickered up to meet yours. 

“Could I ask you for a few days to figure this out?” you entreated. “I want to try this out with you, but I can’t if I’m still hung up on him.” 

“I can wait,” Brian promised. “I _will_ wait. You’re worth it.” In the same moment, you and Brian stood up from the table, feeling an undeniable tug toward each other. He embraced you, holding you close as you rested your face against his chest. 

“Thank you,” you breathed, allowing the thrum of his heartbeat to soothe your hurting heart. Brian kissed the top of your head and gently swayed back and forth, rocking you in his arms. “I feel so safe when I’m with you.” 

“I won’t ever let you go,” Brian murmured. “I’ll take care of you.” 

* * * * * 

**A FEW DAYS LATER**

You and Veronica lounged on the sofa in the studio’s lobby, giving the guys space to argue their way through the song they were recording that day. 

“Fred, I swear to god that if you suggest that again—” Roger snapped, raising his voice. Brian put a hand against his friend’s chest, urging him to calm down. 

“You know it’s the best way, Roger!” Freddie exclaimed, holding his hands out in despair. “You need to stop taking your frustrations out on the rest of us.” Roger stalked off towards the opposite side of the studio, drumsticks in hand. 

“I’ll grab you a beer, Rog,” John offered, starting towards the fridge. 

“Needs a good shag, more like,” Freddie muttered, crossing his arms against his chest. A sharp crack resounded through the studio as Roger launched a drumstick at Freddie’s head. The projectile struck the wall instead, leaving a dent in the plaster. You stood to see what the commotion was about, but Brian pulled the studio door shut before you could reach it. Passing the door, you crept into the control room booth and stood behind the sound engineer, who was silently watching the argument unfold through the window as he at his lunch. The microphones were on, and the conversation was audible through the speaker in the booth. 

“I _was_ getting fucked until you _insisted_ I leave her alone, you twat!” Roger shrieked, kicking over a cymbal stand. “Who the hell are you to decide that?” 

“It’s for your own good, Roger,” Freddie hollered back. “And for hers!” 

“Fred, back off,” Brian commanded, stepping between them again. “And Rog, take a walk, mate. Go out back with John for a smoke.” You watched in stunned silence as Roger yanked the emergency exit door open and walked out, followed closely by a concerned-looking John. 

“Everything alright, darling?” Veronica called from the sofa, but you were too focused on the situation at hand to hear her. Brian stood in the centre of the room, his head tipped back in exasperation. Beside him, Freddie had sat down on a chair, folding one leg over his knee. 

“Did you really tell him to leave her, Fred?” Brian asked after a minute. “I know it’s been hard to watch him break her heart like that, but I don’t know that it was your place.” Freddie slowly turned his head towards his friend. 

“I’ll not have this band split up over a woman, Brian,” he replied. “I don’t care how good of a lay she is, we’ve worked too hard. So if she’s going to be a distraction for you like she has been for Roger, then you’d better walk away now.” 

“Fred, she’s nothing,” Brian assured him. “Trust me, she won’t be an issue.” The words he’d said only days before flashed through your mind, stinging you like hot lightning. The sound engineer swivelled his chair to the side, meeting your eyes as he looked up at you. 

“He doesn’t know you’re here,” he said gently. “Don’t take it—” 

“It’s fine, I heard loud and clear,” you hissed disdainfully. You hurried out of the control room and passed Veronica on the sofa on your way out of the building. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” she yelped, seeing your hurt expression. 

“Just need to get out of here,” you croaked, pulling the door open. The sunlight was blinding after the dimmed studio lights, but you pulled out a pair of shades you’d borrowed from Roger and slid them onto your face. It only took you a moment to decide where to go; following the sidewalk around to the back of the building, you stepped into the alleyway where John and Roger were leaned against a brick wall. 

“Y/N?” Roger asked, perking up as you approached. 

“Let’s go,” you said, gesturing towards his car parked alongside the building. “Your place or mine, your choice.” John put a hand on Roger’s shoulder, which he shrugged off. 

“Mine it is,” Roger replied, stamping out his cigarette on the pavement. “Tell the boys I’ll be back in an hour or two, John.” You followed closely behind him, ignoring the open door of the studio where Brian was standing, calling after you. 

When your legs touched the leather upholstery of Roger’s cherry-red car, the leather was burning hot against your skin; you didn’t care. The heat of your anger blocked out every other feeling. If Brian was going to talk like that behind your back, what was the use in ending things with Roger? Clearly, he still felt the same way about you as he had before; he was just going along with what Freddie had demanded of him. 

“Need me to pick anything up?” Roger asked, sliding into the front seat beside you. “Clothes, toothbrush?” 

“Just drive.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After going home with Roger, you realize that things can't go on the way they did before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little smutty, 18+ only please!

As it had been since the first time you’d gone home with Roger, his house was in a state of disarray. His laundry was everywhere but in the basket, and the dishes were desperately in need of washing, but you didn’t care. His lips had locked with yours before you had even made it through the front door, and events had progressed from there. Even if he wasn’t willing to commit to you, it was hard not to fall into his arms every time he asked you to.

On the stairs, he tripped backwards on the carpeting, catching himself on his elbows. You took the opportunity to yank his shirt up, tearing it over his head when he regained his balance. The bedroom was visible from where he pinned you against the wall, but it didn’t appear that he wanted to end up there just yet. 

“Stop,” Roger grumbled against your mouth, swatting gently at your hands as you tried to undo the button of his trousers. “Just kiss me.” You broke away from him and leaned your head against the wall, looking at the man before you with surprise. “Did you just tell me to stop?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. Roger was breathing heavily, his upper body flushed with excitement. 

“Just kiss me,” he repeated, grasping your wrists and raising them above your head, where he held them against the wall. Although he was doing everything he knew you liked, something felt off. His hands never ventured beneath your bra, or beyond the waistline of your knickers, despite his obvious appetite. 

“Hold up,” you protested, turning your face away. He was forced to stop and wait for you to explain yourself. 

“Everything alright?” he wondered, catching his breath. 

“I don’t know, Rog,” you said sullenly. “You kind of seem like you don’t want me right now.” 

“Of course I do,” Roger groaned, releasing your wrists from his grasp. “I want you so bad, it’s killing me.” Crossing his arms over his bare chest, Roger averted his eyes, unsure of how to explain himself. 

You’d barely been through the door before he had stripped you down to your underwear and been all over you. This exact scenario had happened dozens of times before. Now, for some reason, he wanted nothing more than for the two of you to feel each other up; it was as if you were back in secondary school and his parents were watching the telly downstairs, preventing you from going any further. 

“What’s wrong, Rog?” you probed, placing a hand against his skin. Roger’s ribs were palpable beneath your fingertips, and he squirmed as you trailed them across his chest. 

“You know how I feel about you,” he sighed. “We both know how we feel when we’re together. But I’m just not…” 

“Not what?” 

“Not good for you,” Roger huffed. “I’m not the right person for you, Y/N, and you know it, even if you won’t admit it.” You pulled your hand back as though his skin had burned you. 

“It’s not about being the right one for me,” you frowned, thinking back to the look in Brian’s eyes, the jealous disappointment he’d displayed as he watched you climb into Roger’s car. “What’s it matter, as long as we feel good when we’re together?” Roger’s blue eyes blazed with both lust and frustration; he wasn’t saying the things he needed to make you understand. 

“How did you feel when you were with Brian?” Roger questioned. “I saw the way you looked at each other this morning; you practically undressed each other with your eyes, in front of the rest of us. Are you going to tell me there’s nothing there?” 

He wasn’t wrong; in fact, Brian had _literally_ undressed you that morning before the recording session, back at his place. You shook your head, trying to erase those thoughts as you remembered his words to Freddie in the recording booth. Even when you and Roger were having disagreements, he never would have said that you meant nothing to him. But Brian had done just that, and you couldn’t shake the memory of it. 

“Why is this about Brian and I?” you asked defensively. “Freddie tells you to leave me alone, and you just let your best mate chat me up instead? Until you need a shag, that is.” 

“It’s not like that, Y/N,” Roger countered, his eyes growing dark. “Freddie told me to take a step back because he was concerned that…it’s not him, trust me.” 

“How is this not about Freddie?” Your voice was suddenly sharp, and Roger took a step back to give you some space. You crossed your arms over your chest and shivered, feeling cool in just your underwear. “And Brian, too. Why after two years are you stepping back to let Brian make his move?” 

“I need you to take a breath, love,” Roger requested. “Let’s take a moment, and we can talk about this.” 

“I don’t want a moment, Roger,” you fumed. “I want you to tell me what the hell is going on, right now. Do you want me, or don’t you?” 

“It’s not about that,” he said firmly. It was clear that your badgering was wearing his temper thin. He had never shouted at you before, but everyone had their limits. “Of course I want you. I always want you. But it’s not right.” 

“What isn’t right?” you shot back. “You keep saying that, Roger, and I don’t understa—” 

“I’m going to be a father, Y/N!” he growled, finally raising his voice. You opened your mouth to holler back, but you processed his words before you could formulate your own. 

“Roger…” 

“Christ, give me a moment to explain,” he directed. “And come sit down before you fall over.” You followed him into his bedroom, a numbness spreading over you. Roger pointed to the end of his bed, where a blanket was spread out. Slipping the blanket around your shoulders, you situated yourself on the corner of the bed, watching Roger as he paced back and forth across the room. He finally stopped, standing a safe distance from you. 

“You’ve known me a long time, Y/N,” he started, staring at the floor before his feet. “You know that I’m not really the kind of man to settle down. It hasn’t been fair to you, I know, that I’ve had other…friends…when we’ve been together.” 

“We never said this was exclusive, Roger,” you reminded him, but he held up a hand to silence you. 

“ _We_ never specified, but I know you haven’t seen anyone else in the last two years. You’ve waited on me, and I wasn’t ready or willing to give up my freedom.” He tilted his head back and let out a long, quivering breath. 

“I met a girl a few months back, and she was…she was something else, Y/N. She reminded me a lot of you, really, which is why I think I was so drawn to her. We hit it off, and things were really fantastic, until she stopped taking my calls about a week ago.” Roger bit his lip, hard enough that you thought he might draw blood. 

“What’s her name?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” he dismissed your question. “She called me up about 2 weeks ago, asked me to meet her, and told me she was pregnant. I didn’t know what the hell to do, really. I was shocked.” 

“I can imagine,” you acquiesced, watching his expression carefully. 

“I asked what she wanted to do, what she wanted from me, and she said that she wanted to give things a go together, see if we can give this parenting thing a try. Her condition was that I stop seeing other people.” 

“But you didn’t?” you guessed. 

“Didn’t go over great, no,” he shrugged. “I fucked up, and she found out. So she gave me an ultimatum: I had a month to decide what I wanted more; her and the baby, or…mostly you, really.” 

“And Brian?” you inquired. “Where did he fit into this?” Roger let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he realized how awful this must seem. 

“He’s fancied you right from the beginning. I’m surprised you never realized it sooner. I figured the easiest way to end things with you was to set you up with someone who’d actually be good for you.” 

“He was,” you admitted. “Until he told Freddie I’m nothing to him, that is.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Roger disagreed, shaking his head. “He’ll say whatever Fred wants to hear to keep from fighting, but that boy is in love with you. He told me as much this morning.” 

“He did?” you squeaked, your heart jumping in your chest. 

“Said he can’t believe you actually gave him a chance,” Roger nodded. “And that waking up beside you after that first night was the best thing that’s happened to him in a long time.” He sniffed, blinking hard in an attempt to keep his eyes clear. “Y/N, I love you, and you know that, but this girl…and our baby…I don’t deserve another chance, but she’s giving it to me, and I can’t fuck it up this time.” 

“I get it, Rog,” you said gently. “It hurts, but I’m not angry. I’m happy for you, really. You deserve to be with someone good for you.” You were quiet for a moment, letting it all sink in. One thing confused you still. “What was all this about, then? One last roll in the hay before you called it quits?” You gestured to your nearly naked body and raised your eyebrows curiously. 

“It was stupid,” Roger groaned. “I shouldn’t have agreed when you asked me.” 

“I shouldn’t have asked,” you sighed. “I was standing in the control room when I overheard Brian and Freddie talking, and I was just so angry…” 

“He’ll forgive you,” Roger promised. “We talked this morning, and he mentioned that you had asked for some time to sort things out. Just tell him what happened, and it’ll work itself out in a day or two.” 

“Do you think so?” you asked nervously. “I’m still annoyed that you didn’t tell me you were setting the two of us up, but I’m glad you did. He’s such a great guy, Rog, and I’d hate to think I messed things up over a misunderstanding.” 

“Take him into the storage closet at the studio after we wrap tonight,” Roger smirked, “he’ll forgive you.” You rolled your eyes, but stood up and held your arms out to your best friend. 

“I promise not to do anything weird,” you told him, “just give me one last hug before I get dressed, for old times’ sake.” Roger pulled you against him, squeezing you tightly. After a minute, you felt the familiar nudge of his arousal against your thigh. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly, “my mind is in the right place, I swear, but my body’s a little confused right now.” 

“It’s alright,” you forgave, “just keep it in your pants or we’ll have a problem.” 

* * * * * 

“Oh, fuck,” Brian gasped, resting his head against the wall of the storage room as he came down from his climax. “I definitely forgive you, love.” You pressed a kiss against his stomach and stood up, allowing him to adjust himself in his trousers. “And I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow as you licked your lips. 

“That I said you didn’t matter to Freddie,” he explained, still breathing heavily after having received your ‘apology’. “It wasn’t true, and I’m sorry I hurt you.” 

“I still shouldn’t have stormed off with Roger,” you sighed. “It was immature of me, and I did it because I knew it would hurt you. It wasn’t right.” Brian drew you against his chest, stroking your hair as you listened to his heart beating quickly beneath his breast. 

“It did hurt me in the moment,” Brian admitted, “but I’m past it.” As he held you, he began to hum something he’d been working on writing for the new album, a melancholy tune if you’d ever heard one. 

“Bri?” you asked, running your thumb along his spine absentmindedly. “Can I stay over tonight? I don’t want to sleep alone.” 

“Of course,” he murmured. “Any night you want. All the nights, if you fancy it.” As you stood wrapped in each other’s embrace, the door handle of the storage room twisted open, and into the room came John and Veronica, their lips locked in a passionate kiss. You looked up at Brian, startled but amused, both of you wondering when it would be appropriate to say something; clearly they were too distracted to notice you. As soon as John started undoing Veronica’s blouse, Brian cleared his throat to announce your presence. 

“Fucking hell, Brian,” John yelped, clutching his chest in surprise. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.” Veronica’s lipstick was visible on his mouth, and as you met your friend’s eyes, the two of you began to giggle. Brian tried to conceal his smile, but couldn’t. He kissed the side of your head, took your hand and lead you towards the door. He patted his friend on the shoulder before opening the door and slipping back out into the corridor. Before pulling it shut, Brian leaned back in and winked at Veronica. 

“Seems that recording ‘Get Down, Make Love’ here has really added some sexual energy to the place, eh John?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter edition compared to the last chapter, but hopefully you enjoyed it! Let me know in the comments.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it, did you hate it? Let me know!


End file.
